


Evolution

by mag_lex



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, F/F, Fix-It, Just like the episode, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Revolution, thasmin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mag_lex/pseuds/mag_lex
Summary: Yaz and the Doctor have a talk after the events of Revolution of the Daleks (obvious spoilers!)Now with a second and final chapter - please note the rating change (first chapter is G and can be read as a standalone).
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 34
Kudos: 197





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wasn't planning on posting new fics to Ao3 but this one is for the special so I felt like I had to! Man what an episode. Tempted to continue this one with another chapter (maybe smutty) but for now I had to get this out because these two really need to talk and I need to process my emotions from that episode. 
> 
> Bit rushed but easily the most cathartic hour of this year so far!

Catapulting into the next adventure was the easiest thing to do. Yaz and the Doctor practically fell into it, clearly longing for some kind of familiarity, some routine, even though what awaited them on the other side of the TARDIS doors was not familiar in the slightest. Yaz breathed a sigh of relief as the doors creaked open, excited beyond words at the prospect of something new. After spending so long looking for the Doctor, to have her back, at long last, was almost too good to be true. So Yaz focused instead on their plan for the day, treating it as a reward for her patience. She gave herself a break from thinking about things, and tried to ignore the sadness that seemed to cloak the Doctor, despite her smiles.

When it came time to say goodbye that first time, Yaz found it difficult to let the Doctor go. She insisted that they set a date and time for their next meeting and when that date and time came, Yaz was more than a little surprised to find the Doctor there waiting for her. She was early. 

“Am I late?” Yaz asked, checking her watch. 

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting,” the Doctor smiled, but she seemed melancholy. Yaz wondered if she was still finding it strange now that Ryan and Graham had gone. And then it occurred to her that perhaps the Doctor still felt guilty about disappearing for so long, to the point where she had actually turned up early for the first time ever. 

“Thanks,” Yaz replied, but there was an awkward pause while she deliberated whether to broach the subject. There were a few to choose from, after all.

“Shall we?” the Doctor suggested, and Yaz nodded with relief. She wasn’t sure she was ready for any particularly deep conversations and she also wasn’t sure she trusted herself to have them. She could still picture the look of shock on the Doctor’s face when she’d landed in Graham’s living room in her TARDIS and Yaz, rather than hugging her, had abruptly pushed her away. 

But that conversation they so desperately needed to have didn’t take place the next time, or the next. Eventually Yaz was starting to wonder if they were ever going to talk about what had happened: how the Doctor had pulled away on Gallifrey and managed to get away without blowing herself up; how she’d escaped from space jail; and how two of their friends had decided to leave the TARDIS and go their separate ways. 

The latter topic was the easiest to broach, in a way, because Yaz could relate things to Graham or Ryan. When they’d finally stop for food - apparently the Doctor had more of an appetite now, and Yaz wondered where that had come from - Yaz would comment on whether Graham would have enjoyed it. Or if they came across an unusual piece of intergalactic engineering, Yaz would bring Ryan’s name into the conversation. 

But the Doctor didn’t tend to linger on them. She acknowledged what Yaz was saying, sometimes - not always- and moved on. It started to feel like Yaz was talking to a brick wall. She knew the Doctor missed them, it was almost impossible not to, but she also started to wonder if the Doctor would ever let her guard down. 

One evening, after a particularly strenuous day that had involved lots of running and evading gunfire, Yaz asked if she could spend the night on the TARDIS. She needed time to decompress but in truth, she didn’t like to be separated for the Doctor for long. It was rare that the Doctor agreed but she did with a quiet nod. She seemed to have withdrawn more and more into herself of late and Yaz could feel her worry grow. 

But when she’d asked the Doctor if she was alright, she’d brushed Yaz off, as she usually did. A pattern was starting to form, and certain things remained unchanged despite the fact that so much had changed in the meantime. Yaz was still being kept at arm’s length. She could feel her patience wearing thin but she’d bitten her tongue and gone to bed, reasoning that a good night’s sleep would help and that she’d be less fractious by the morning.

But Yaz tossed and turned. Sleeping over had been a mistake because all she could think about was the proximity of the Doctor: she was closer than ever, physically, but Yaz could go nowhere near her. 

Except she could. Yaz sat upright, seized by the idea. She knew the Doctor was unlikely to be sleeping and it wasn’t like they were currently in the middle of anything. _Perhaps now would be a good time to talk_ , she mused. Downtime, no distractions, and the Doctor, alone. 

It didn’t take long to find her but when she did, Yaz gasped. 

The Doctor was halfway through dressing a wound on her lower arm and Yaz did a double-take when she saw what she was doing. 

“When did that happen?” she asked, horrified. She couldn’t tell if she was more upset that she’d not noticed the Doctor being hurt or that the Doctor had chosen to hide that from her. 

“Yaz? What are you doing up?”

“Asking you a question.”

Yaz was worried but it was coming out as something different. Her frustration was bleeding into her words and she wondered if going looking for the Doctor had been such a good idea after all. She was exhausted and now she was irritated, but was she more annoyed at herself or the Doctor? 

“I don’t know,” the Doctor shrugged, carelessly throwing the bloody gauze to one side. The wound was in an awkward place, on the underside of her arm, and Yaz reasoned that was probably why she hadn’t noticed it. But surely the Doctor would have felt being grazed by a bullet?

“Can I help?”

“It’s alright, Yaz. You should get some rest.”

“I can’t sleep. And I want to help.” Yaz revised her request. She had tried the polite route but that was all too easy for the Doctor to evade. She needed to stand her ground a bit more than she once might have done.

The Doctor sighed when she realised that Yaz wasn’t going to budge. The sound irritated Yaz more than it should have. 

“It’ll make both of our lives a lot easier if you just let me help,” Yaz insisted, and when the Doctor didn’t put up resistance, she reached for some clean gauze and grimaced as she got a proper look at the wound. The Doctor was silent as she started to clean up the rest of the blood but Yaz could see how tense she was; it obviously hurt. 

“Why didn’t you say you were injured?”

“We were busy,” the Doctor shrugged lopsidedly with one shoulder. Her attempt at indifference was undermined by the fact that one of her arms was currently out of commission, held by Yaz.

“When we got back you could have said something, though. Were you just hoping to hide this from me? Waiting until I’d gone to bed until you dealt with it, on your own?”

“I didn’t need your help,” the Doctor replied, face white with pain as Yaz pressed a little too hard. 

“I didn’t say that,” Yaz sighed, easing up. “I’d hope that you’d ask for my help if you needed it. My worry is that you hid this from me. That’s all.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“Yeah, I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree on that, Doctor.” Yaz held up the bloody gauze and reached for a bandage. The Doctor hissed as she started to wrap it around the jagged tear. 

“I wish you’d tell me things,” she continued. “You tell me to trust you and I do, but it’s hard when you tell me nothing.” The words fell out before she could even really consider them.

“That’s how trust works, Yaz.” The Doctor’s genial tone had all but disappeared. Yaz couldn’t tell if it was because she was in pain, because of what she had said, or because she was unhappy that Yaz had caught her out.

“It’s hard to trust someone when they don’t talk. Or when they disappear.” Yaz tried to keep her tone level but it was becoming increasingly difficult. The thoughts and emotions she’d bottled up when they’d set out again were threatening to emerge in explosive style. She hurried to finish dressing the wound.

“And I came back,” the Doctor retorted, clearly struggling to keep her own feelings at bay. “That has to count for something, Yaz.”

“10 months later.” It was a low blow and Yaz knew it, but it still hurt. She felt a little better for getting it off her chest but when she saw the Doctor’s jaw clench, she instantly felt bad for bringing it up. 

“I thought you were dead that whole time, Doctor. Do you know what that's like?” Yaz finished up and stepped back, suddenly keen for some distance. She didn’t like the way this conversation was going but it was too late to stop it and she only had herself to blame. Well, that, and the Doctor for not communicating properly with her, either. The turbulent bubble of anguish and frustration and sadness that permanently sat in her stomach had worked its way up to her throat. It was getting harder to swallow it down.

“Yaz, don't,” the Doctor warned, eyes flashing. 

“Don't what?”

“Don't push this.”

The Doctor didn’t specify what she meant by _this_ but Yaz knew only too well. It was the elephant in the room. The things left unsaid. 

“Why not?”

“There are things you don't need to know.”

“I disagree,” Yaz shook her head abruptly. “You and me, we're in this together, just the two of us, and I still don't know you.”

“You do, Yaz. You know enough. Otherwise why did you wait? Why did you try to find me by yourself, when the others had given up?”

Yaz faltered. How had the Doctor known she’d done it alone?

“Yeah, Ryan told me.” The Doctor, for a moment, seemed pleased that she’d managed to throw Yaz off the scent. It had worked: Yaz was flummoxed.

“You talked to Ryan?” Yaz was stung. “Why not me?”

 _“_ Because he asked me how I felt. Because he didn't shove me the moment he saw me.” 

Yaz felt sick. That shove haunted her, and she felt her defences rise because the Doctor had brought it up. She felt so guilty about it but she couldn’t help her reaction; so many pent up emotions had come to the fore and the person who had triggered them all had borne the brunt of them.

The Doctor stood. “Are we done?”

“No. You know why I shoved you?” Yaz could feel herself getting worked up. She needed to explain but she also needed the Doctor to understand. If the Doctor wasn’t going to talk to her about her feelings, she was at least going to tell the Doctor how she felt.

“You come back all smiles, like nothing happened and we could pick up where we left off. It's not that simple.”

“You're making this harder than it needs to be, Yaz.” The Doctor seemed so cold that Yaz felt a prickle go up her spine. She had one last card to play.

“Yeah, well, while you had your chat with Ryan, I talked to Jack.”

The Doctor froze.

“What did he tell you?”

 _Bingo_.

“There are things you don't need to know,” Yaz repeated back at her. There was no way she’d tell the Doctor what she told Jack. Not right now. Perhaps not ever, with the way this conversation was going. Yaz thought she’d been hurting before but that had been nothing compared to this. They were both lashing out at one another and it was getting ugly.

“That's not fair.”

“What's not fair is the way you just strolled back into my life and wanted to pick up where we left off.”

“What's so wrong with that, Yaz? Moving on?”

“Because if we don't deal with things properly then you aren't really moving on. You’re just ignoring things.”

“You're talking like I don't know that, Yaz. I've had plenty of time to deal with things.”

“As if. You’ve barely stopped since we started up again.”

The Doctor’s eyes flashed again, this time with something more like anguish than anger. Yaz preferred the anger.

“Is it wrong to want to get out there again? To see the universe?”

Yaz couldn’t disagree; she’d missed it more than she’d expected. Almost as much as the Doctor herself. 

“Of course not, but-” 

“You think 10 months was long?” the Doctor cut in, clearly angry. “Try decades of solitary confinement. Seeing the stars from inside a cage, being separated from you, billions of light-years away - and powerless to do anything about it.”

They could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. 

“What?” Yaz wasn’t sure she’d heard the Doctor correctly. 

The Doctor started to pace.

“Like I said, there are things you don’t need to know,” she sighed, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands and grumbling when the move pulled on her wound. 

“Decades?” Yaz repeated faintly. She felt truly nauseous; measuring the passage of time in decades rather than months was so out of her comprehension that it had pulled the rug from out under her feet. She’d pushed and pushed and now she realised, too late, that the Doctor had been protecting her from the ugly truth. 

“My ship might not be the best at keeping time but in the grand scheme of things, she wasn't that far out.”

“Doctor, what do you mean by decades? How many?”

The Doctor sighed again and closed her eyes, clearly regretting opening her mouth.

“It’s nothing, Yaz. Forget it. Don’t you wish you could take words back sometimes? Shove them back in, unsay them.”

Yaz knew exactly what the Doctor meant but she could also tell she was trying to change the subject.

“It's not nothing. Don't try and paper over this like it's no big deal.”

“I can't go back and change anything so there's no point dwelling on it. And 10 months was all it took to lose Ryan and Graham. How long would it have taken to lose you, too?”

“‘til the day I died,” Yaz answered without hesitation.

The Doctor’s facade crumbled. 

“Oh, Yaz.” In those two words were years and years of pain and Yaz could hear them all too well. She strode across the room and pulled the Doctor into her arms, wishing she could take those years of pain away, just for a second. 

“Having you and then losing you was worse than not knowing you at all.”

And yes, she’d not meant to divulge any of her conversation with Jack but she needed the Doctor to know that, at least. She needed the Doctor to know just how much she meant to her. 

The Doctor tightened her grip. “Tell me about it.”

Yaz felt her heart kick in her chest. 

“You don't mean that,” she mumbled, trying not to cry. The Doctor was just trying to make her feel better, as she always did. 

“Yaz, don't tell me what I mean. I may not know a lot of things right now, but I know how I feel. I've had a lot of time to think.”

Yaz pulled away to read her expression. 

“You do look older,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood. Surely the Doctor wasn’t admitting to the same thing she was? But her face looked so lost, so sad, so heartbroken, and Yaz recognised that instantly because she’d seen it in her own face. 

“Oi!” the Doctor protested, resorting to her usual deflection. 

Yaz cupped her cheek and looked into her eyes, keen to keep the Doctor with her. 

“And sadder. You look more sad than I’ve seen you before.”

“You don't look too cheerful yourself, Yaz.”

“I'm not. But I'm not letting go of you yet. I've come to terms with the idea of losing you and it hurts. Now that you're here, I don't want to waste any more time.”

This was her moment, and Yaz threw caution to the wind. The Doctor’s face was still in her hands and she gently guided her into a kiss that she’d longed for for months. Years, even. She might not be able to measure it in decades but it was long enough to be one of the most significant moments of her life. 

She reluctantly pulled away, wary of the fact that it might be the first and last time she did such a thing. 

The Doctor’s eyes were still closed and she had a look of blissed-out confusion that made Yaz smile, despite the fact that she was anticipating even further heartbreak. 

“This is where you tell me this is a bad idea, isn't it?” Yaz sighed. She was expecting the worst. 

“This is a bad idea,” the Doctor agreed, and then she kissed her again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I carry on trying to digest what I’m feeling about That episode because OUCH. This is also a bit ouch and also nsfw so just a heads up that the rating has changed! Don’t know if I’ll continue this one, unless my brain continues to stew over the angst that episode provided. Half of this was outlined at 2am this morning. I haven’t even read the other fix-it fics yet because I cannot get this out of my headddd so here goes nothing, I have to exorcise all of these fucking demons man

If kissing the Doctor was a bad idea, what they did next was surely a terrible one. Yaz had no idea who pushed who in the direction of her bed but she was more than willing to take the blame and she capitulated easily, which was inevitable when the Doctor's lips migrated to her neck and started to kiss downwards.

There was a soft pillow under her head, the whisper of sheets under her naked back, and the Doctor, still clothed, tending to her with her mouth and hands. If this was a terrible idea, Yaz fully intended to make mistakes more often.

“You alright?” the Doctor asked quietly, brushing hair from Yaz’s cheek. A brief moment of reprieve.

“Brilliant,” Yaz replied, realising she’d adopted the Doctor’s preferred epithet. “Please don’t stop.” 

“Been imagining this,” the Doctor admitted, and that sent Yaz’s heart racing even more than did the feel of the Doctor’s cool palms skimming her ribs. Then soft lips were worshipping her chest and Yaz was sure she didn't imagine that the Doctor lingered over the skin between her breasts, above her heart. She was especially careful there.

But Yaz felt greedy. She wanted to know more about what the Doctor was thinking, right at that second, at this crucial juncture. This should be the point of no return. If they were going to fall into this, Yaz needed to be certain she wasn't on her own. She needed the reassurance of someone else falling with her.

"You know how we said the kissing was a bad idea?" she asked, making conversation even as the Doctor moved down towards her stomach.

"Hmm?"

Yaz wondered why she was trying to make the Doctor talk when she was clearly so close to eating her out. The very concept made goosebumps break out all over Yaz’s exposed skin in a shiver; her next words came out in a similar rush.

“What does that make this?”

She bit back a sigh as the Doctor’s breath tickled the skin under her navel and okay, they really were going into this full steam. She couldn’t have expected anything less than full commitment from the Doctor but the thought that that intense focus was going to be on her and her alone was a little nerve-wracking.

“Probably an even worse idea,” the Doctor chuckled and the throaty sound was made far dirtier by virtue of the fact that her mouth was now moving to the space between Yaz’s legs. Yaz bit back a yelp when the Doctor confidently manoeuvred her legs over her shoulders, spreading her open in a manner that meant she had no way to hide. The Doctor’s eyes darkened while she took her in for the first time and Yaz was almost certain she’d expire on the spot when she saw her lick her lips. “But also maybe the best idea I've ever had, and I've had a few pretty brilliant ideas in my time.”

It was a relief to know they were on the same page. 

Yaz stopped asking questions when the Doctor started to devour her, moaning into the slick between her legs as she tasted her for the first time and putting her tongue to better use than conversation. Her fingers gripped her thighs, holding Yaz in place, and Yaz forgot about everything, just for a little while. 

At least, she tried to. She couldn’t quite adjust to the fact it was the Doctor mouthing at her, her fingers inside her, her tongue licking her.

The fact that it was the Doctor doing all of those things was what made her come lightning fast and breathless, disappointed she couldn't last a little longer. What if it didn’t happen again? 

The Doctor eased her legs from her shoulders and Yaz shoved the thought aside for the time being, busying herself removing the Doctor’s clothes, instead. She wondered if the Doctor had always been that skinny and found herself captivated by the slope of her hips and the soft skin under her small breasts, which fit perfectly in Yaz's palms. Without her clothes the Doctor seemed all too fragile and Yaz was gentle, cautious, almost, wary of the fact that she probably hadn’t been touched in a long, long time. It didn’t take long for the Doctor to come around her fingers, clenching hard and holding her tight inside. She whimpered as the trembling eased and Yaz muttered nonsense as she pulled out, kissing the Doctor’s sweaty brow as she collapsed onto the pillows next to her. It took the Doctor a long time to come back to the present, to the point where Yaz became worried. 

“Are you alright?” she frowned, wondering if the Doctor’s lassitude was purely physical or if she was already regretting what they’d done and was going to leave.

To her relief the Doctor nodded, blearily opening her eyes and her arms to welcome Yaz into them before closing them once more. Yaz eagerly let herself be enveloped, hoping that she might provide a different kind of comfort. Human contact would have been out of the question in prison, she mused, which might explain the Doctor’s sudden fondness for hugs. 

Yaz settled in her arms, trying to get used to the feel of their naked bodies pressed together. She focused on the rise and fall of the Doctor’s chest and wondered if she could feel the twin pulse of her hearts - one happy, one sad, as the Doctor had only recently reminded her. She placed her palm between her breasts. She could indeed feel her hearts pounding underneath her ribs and they felt strong, but the pace was relentless; almost like the Doctor herself, never stopping, practically overlapping in their haste to function. Her brain worked at an even faster speed and Yaz marvelled at the thought that the Doctor, the smartest and best person she'd ever met, would share a bed with someone like her.

The Doctor sighed softly and spoke drowsily and Yaz felt foolish for thinking she’d wanted to run. _She must be exhausted_.

“This is the only place I want to be right now.”

It was as if she’d read Yaz’s mind, but Yaz dismissed the idea as coincidence. They were in a bubble of their own creation and she didn’t want to risk bursting it by thinking too much. To her continued surprise and relief, the Doctor stayed the night, and the next morning there was no awkwardness; only the suggestion that they continue their adventures. Simple.

More often than not they’d continue their endeavours between the sheets of Yaz’s bed after each trip, finding comfort in one another without even having to discuss it. It was easy, fulfilling, and Yaz felt less lonely than she had in a long while. Despite that, the Doctor still seemed sad, an emotion that Yaz was starting to realise had always been there; the Doctor was just getting less good at hiding it, or was making less of an effort to. 

Whatever made her sad was clearly something that had already been and gone but she wasn’t the only one who was tormented by unhappy thoughts; while the Doctor was mired in the past, Yaz found herself plagued by thoughts of the future, of the day that she would no longer be by the Doctor’s side. But she’d spent months thinking ‘what if’; she’d had enough of contemplating what was to come. She couldn’t live her life that way. 

Simply put, it was easiest and safest to live in the present. They had the best chance of happiness that way. That also meant that they lost themselves in one another rather than actually talking, but Yaz did her best to chip away at the Doctor's defences in the post-coital haze. One day, she thought, just maybe, the Doctor would open up. They got close one time, when Yaz finally plucked up the courage to ask about prison. It had been on her mind for weeks.

“What was it like? Prison?” She kept her voice low as if in apology for the question she was asking. The Doctor’s hand stopped stroking her arm but she didn’t move away; Yaz’s head still rested on her collarbone and she pressed a kiss to it in gratitude.

“Dull.” The Doctor's tone matched the word, as did her expression when Yaz looked up; she saw the light behind her eyes dim, like someone had twizzled a knob behind the scenes. Yaz removed her foot from her mouth and gave herself a mental kick. _What a stupid question to ask._

It was hard to imagine the Doctor staying in one place with only her thoughts for company, and the very idea made Yaz’s heart hurt. But she didn’t have two hearts, and as much as the Doctor might insist that one of hers was at least happy, Yaz wasn’t sure she believed that, either. 

And so, sometimes, Yaz was glad that they didn’t talk. She consoled herself with providing physical comfort and let herself believe that the Doctor might care for her as much as she cared for the Doctor. And every now and again, the Doctor let slip something that gave her hope, and she clung to it; she’d feel the Doctor brush a kiss against the top of her head when Yaz was dozing, or murmur Yaz’s name in her sleep, and Yaz catalogued those clues much like she did the information she’d gathered when the Doctor had left her behind. She’d deluded herself then, maintaining the fantasy that the Doctor might not be dead after all, and it had paid off. She hoped her efforts would be similarly rewarded if she just remained patient. But it was something of a race against the clock: their time together was clearly finite, and the Doctor had time on her side. 

Still, Yaz didn’t regret a thing. Almost. She knew when that day came - when the Doctor left her - that it was going to be unbearable, and made worse by the fact that the Doctor would be on her own again. Yaz ignored it as best she could but it was a constant thought, always at the back of her mind, never giving her peace. Before long, the Doctor could tell something was wrong but rather than talk about it, Yaz kissed her instead, took her to bed, slept beside her, and absorbed every single second as best she could because she'd need to furnish the rest of her life with them.

Yaz found the Doctor by the console the next morning. They smiled at one another, comfortable, content, and taking each day as it came. It was the best they could hope for. 

The Doctor twiddled with something on the console and Yaz grinned as she watched her move, coat tails flaring behind her. She would never, ever forget that image.

“Ready, Yaz?” The Doctor asked with a grin, one hand already on the lever that would send them flying off into space and time. She didn’t really need to ask because Yaz would never say no, but they went through the motions anyway. One day, Yaz's willingness to jump in headfirst would be her undoing but she hoped more than anything that today would not be that day. Or perhaps she'd already gone past the point of no return.

She nodded.

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, you can find me on twitter @_mag_lex and my new fics are all going up on maglexfic.wordpress.com :)


End file.
